Green
by yllimilly
Summary: Because in the beginning they were friends, and before that they both were a bit lost. Jonouchi-Hirutani, for contest.


_._

**Green  
**Jonouchi/Hirutani, written for contest.  
pre-pre-canon

_._

Young people came to the concrete banks of the Yodo River in pairs. A silent prelude to confirming the warmth of a hand, the softness of a kiss. Jonouchi's own romantic experience amounted to less than that; a few porno magazines borrowed from his father in his absence, some fascination at the sight of the models' naked breasts.

To Jonouchi the crowded edges of the Yodo River were quieter than school, cheaper than beer, and cleaner than home. He usually came straight from school, picking the best spot by the bridge near Shichijo Station and waited for the couples to pour, freshly changed out of their school uniforms. Jonouchi knew he stood out in his own. He didn't care; he already stood out because his hair, anyway.

He did nothing special on his evenings spent by the riverbank. He had a plastic bottle full of water in his backpack, which he liked to think still tasted of the black tea that was in it when he purchased it a year ago. When his stomach growled, Jonouchi would take a sip. And when droves of middle school kids like him crossed the bridge above him, walking home to from their after school club practice, Jonouchi imagined Honda was also heading home to a warm meal and a nagging mother.

Recently Jonouchi had taken up smoking. Cigarettes were cheap and readily accessible. Jonouchi liked the buzzing sound of the vending machine when it swallowed his thousand yen bill, and the clicking sound of his change after the transaction. He liked the feel of the pack in his hands, light and all edges and so fragile in a way; he liked to peel the shiny wrapper and slide the little box in the inner pocket of his vest. It was all part of what made smoking special and what made _him_ feel special, by extension.

He made it a point not to smoke during the day. He also made it a point not to smoke at night. Dusk was the best. When it was still light enough to distinguish people's faces around him, but dark enough that he couldn't read the furigana in his comic books, Joey would ceremoniously draw one single cigarette from the pack, place it between his lips, look for his lighter with one clumsy hand, and bring the white stick it to life with utmost care, sheltering its tip from the breeze.

Sometimes he would get looks from his neighbours. Jonouchi ignored them and drew long, cherished breaths through the narrow filter. He always counted as he exhaled, and his breath always came to a close at the count of four. The best thing about smoking was the control. Jonouchi could quit whenever he liked. He wasn't bound by addiction or peer pressure.

When the stick was consummated he would flick it with his middle finger and watch it roll down the concrete slope. Then he would reclined and lay still on his back, head resting on his backpack, and watch the world go by. Time was his only commodity.

The last semi-express train usually left at eleven fifty.

.

Jonouchi didn't always come home so late. But he always woke up early no matter what. Tardiness was the only fault not figuring in the overcrowded 'misc. comments' section of his report card. Besides, sleeping in class was lesser a crime than skipping on class. Likewise, raising his hand to give a stupid or funny answer was better than never trying and not giving answers at all. At least it made people laugh. It made people happy.

Some days a teacher would have enough and keep Jonouchi after school for detention. A day like today. White Day.

There were no more free spots on the bank of the Yodo river under the bridge near Shichijo Station. Jonouchi walked north, north, cursing the heavy textbooks in his backpack, crossed a bridge and walked north still, cursing the droves of lovey dovey couples exchanging nicely wrapped cookies and elaborate marshmallow bouquets. Jonouchi settled past the bridge near Gojo Station - he might as well have taken the train! - and looked at his shoes pointedly.

It was dark out already, and he'd been looking forward to that smoke all day. The anticipated first draft was what kept him from bailing out on his cleaning duty and earning himself an even longer, more painful detention.

Not like he physically craved the nicotine, anyway.

He leaned back and rested his head on his forearms, looking into the dead Domino sky.

A pair of legs came into his field of vision. Jonouchi willed them away.

"Got a light?"

Jonouchi sat up. He and the boy wore the same uniform. Jonouchi couldn't remember seeing him at school, though. When the boy didn't budge Jonouchi stood up.

"Depends."

The boy scoffed. "Relax, man, it's just a lighter. I'm not asking you to suck my dick."

Jonouchi flinched involuntarily. The boy laughed. He let his school bag fall to his feet and reached for his own pack of cigarettes inside his vest. They smoked the same brand!

"How do you know I smoke?" Jonouchi asked.

The boy tapped the bottom of his almost full pack and pointed Jonouchi's hair.

"That doesn't mean anything."

The boy scoffed. He skillfully retrieved a cigarette with his lips and stashed the pack whence it came. Jonouchi could only oblige. He didn't produce a light as first try; nor at the second, or third. He'd never done this with anyone. Jonouchi cursed at the wind, aware that wasn't why he couldn't get the primitive device to work.

The first flame filled cast a warm glow on the boy's features. His eyes were downcast and focused. Three hands rushed to protect the flame from the wind. Fingers brushed. The boy inhaled, bringing the embers aglow. The boys stepped back from one another and waited silently, out of respect for the sacred first draft. The boy didn't look set to walk away.

Jonouchi waited for the first ash tap to speak up.

"So what's your name?"

A nearby couple stood up and left, waving the smoke away.

"Hirutani."

The melody of a nearby traffic light song began playing.

"Jonouchi."

He couldn't see where Hirutani's gaze lay, but he felt watched nonetheless. The tune stopped. The other boy held out the remnants of his cigarette to Jonouchi.

"Want some?"

Jonouchi shook his head. He wasn't a bottom feeder.

"Your loss." The boy took a half-hearted, final drag before flicking it away. They looked at the embers roll down the concrete slope, and die out. "I'll see you at school," he said. He swung his school bag over his shoulder and walked away.

.

Jonouchi didn't see him at school the next day. Maybe the boy hadn't been wearing the same uniform he was. It didn't matter.

He got off at Gojo Station that evening.

His new quiet spot was worth the extra stop. He liked the tune of the traffic light somewhere above him, how it echoed under the bridge before falling into his ears. He liked that life wasn't asking anything from him.

"Yo."

Jonouchi recognized the voice from behind. He waited for the boy to sit next to him and greeted him with a look. Hirutani's hair was paler than his and hung loosely about his ears. Jonouchi guessed the hair was shaved on the sides of his skull. And he knew that blemish on his cheekbone was a black eye almost healed.

They watched the river flow for a while. Jonouchi took out his pack, unsure whether he should offer a cigarette. He'd never done this before. He didn't smoke with his father, and he didn't have too much friends - or wasn't able to keep them, anyway.

He tapped the bottom of his almost empty pack a little too hard, and instead of doing Hirutani's neat trick, it sent two cigarettes falling on the ground. Hirutani had picked them up before Jonouchi. He slid one between his lips, and handed the other to its rightful owner. Jonouchi lit Hirutani's cigarette after fewer attempts than yesterday. Then he set off to light his own.

"Wait."

Jonouchi released the latch and the flame died. He flinched when the boy leaned dangerously close to him.

"Relax, man, I'm not gonna kill you or anything. Don't move."

He leaned in - closer - closer - until the tips of their cigarettes touched and Jonouchi just sat there stunned. Hirutani cupped his hand around the glowing ends. His fingers delicately brushed against Jonouchi's face. The embers grew, grew, devouring the molten leaves, and Jonouchi's heart rate went up for no reason.

Nothing happened.

Jonouchi held his breath.

Hirutani withdrew and exhaled a good deal of smoke.

"You gotta breathe in, idiot. Use my cig to light yours."

"Oh."

"One more time."

This time Jonouchi willed himself not to flinch; Hirutani was careful not to touch him this time. Jonouchi drew in one shallow breath, let the toxic vapors pour out from the corners of his mouth, then once more, more deeply this time, until some of the orange embers dulled into grey ashes. Hirutani was the one to draw away.

They didn't make eye contact.

They didn't speak at all, even after their smokes were done.

Hirutani exhaled through his nose; Jonouchi through his mouth.

They stared at the water flowing unperturbed before them.

Twilight came.

Twilight, the moment Jonouchi was supposed to partake in his lonesome ritual.

It wasn't lonesome anymore; it wasn't a ritual anymore.

Jonouchi shifted his weight from side to side. The concrete ground wasn't easy on him.

Hirutani uncrossed his arms from around his knees and laid his palms flat out on the ground. He didn't look at Jonouchi. Jonouchi didn't look at him.

"Thanks."

Hirutani stood up and left.

.

Jonouchi wanted to touch the woman's breasts. She leaned towards him and cupped her hands around his face. Jonouchi wanted to 'take' her. She closed the gap between their mouths and ran a hot, moist tongue between his lips. The suddenness and the slickness of the touch aroused him. Jonouchi woke up to a foreign moistness between his thighs.

It took him a full minute to process what had happened. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, letting his chest heave its way out of the confusion. He ran his fingers between his legs again, then looked at them. This was the same stuff he'd seen on the woman's face in the porno magazine. And his undies were drenched in it. He wiped his fingers on his sheet by reflex, one second after realizing what he'd done.

He wrapped his stained clothing and sheets in a bundle and took them to the bathroom. Threw them in the already full laundry basket, turned the shower on. He washed his privates first, refusing to start working on any other part of his body until he'd washed the embarrassing evidence away.

He didn't even know you could do that in your sleep.

His father was awake when he stepped out of the shower, naked except for a towel around his waist. The man glowered at the sight of son's watery trail. Jonouchi lowered his head and headed for his bedroom.

"Come here," the man beckoned, his voice worn out from life's various trials. Jonouchi looked at his father; they'd been avoiding each other since 'last time'.

"Turn around."

Jonouchi stepped closer to his father and showed him his exposed back. He stayed still under the older man's pained, loud breaths. He had a second sense for feeling people's hands and gazes over him. His father emitted occasional, pensive grunts, which were more often than not followed by slight coughing fits. Jonouchi did not flinch.

A calloused thumb ran across a tender spot right below his shoulder blade. Jonouchi did not flinch. The thumb dug into the abnormally warm flesh. The same gesture was repeated on his side above his hip, and somewhere not painful between his ribs.

Jonouchi had gotten good at not flinching.

The man's last grunt sounded more thunderous, more desolate. Soon he wasn't right behind Jonouchi's body anymore.

"Here. Give me your hand."

The boy turned to look at his father. He took his son's hand and dug a thousand dollar yen bill in it, closing the small fist around the moist wad of paper. Neither of them wanted to look at it.

"Buy yourself something nice after school, will you?"

Keeping his eyes down, Jonouchi nodded and walked to his bedroom.

.

That day he came late to school. He had his last cigarette in secret at recess, because it didn't matter after all what time of the day he smoked. He exhaled the smoke through his nose, toying with the paper bill buried deep in his pockets.

"Yo."

Jonouchi knew better than to look at the boy.

"Yo."

Hirutani lit himself his own cigarette, with his own lighter. Together they stared down at the tiny people walking down the street.

The rooftop was considerably windier than the riverbank. So at the fifth stillborn flicker of Hirutani's virgin lighter, Jonouchi reached out and cupped his hands around Hirutani's cigarette, smoking his own in shallow drafts, small mouthfuls of ashen air drifting out into the wind.

Hirutani didn't thank him. Jonouchi didn't expect him to. When he sucked in the last patch of flaked tar Jonouchi flicked his cigarette down. He lost sight of it before it reached the ground.

"They'll notice if you do that," Hirutani warned.

"Hm."

"Wanna try something tonight?"

Jonouchi kept his cool. "Something like what?"

Hirutani produced something from the inner pocket of his vest. A little pill in aluminum wrap. It looked like some kind of prescription drug, except that couldn't very well what Hirutani had in mind.

Hirutani pocketed it after Jonouch's reaction delay expired, scoffing at his obvious ignorance. "You'll see."

"Okay."

"You gotta pay up, though."

"Broke. I gotta buy some new cigs anyway," Jonouchi said, regaining his cool.

"So you got money."

"Not always."

Hirutani finished his own smoke and crushed it with the sole of his shoe. Then he picked it up and placed it in a piece of crumpled paper he had in his pant pockets. "How d'you get your money?" He asked, sounding like he was trying to cover his genuine curiosity. Neither of them looked rich; neither was old enough to have a real job.

Jonouchi looked at the fading bruise under Hirutani's eye.

"My dad gives me some when he feels guilty."

Hirutani's gaze grew long and hard. Pensive.

"Okay."

Hirutani turned away and looked into the distance.

Jonouchi did the same.

.

They left school grounds together that evening. The train station was a twenty minute walk. So for twenty minutes, they talked, without too much conviction, about their stupid teachers and their stupid homework.

Hirutani followed Jonouchi when he stopped by a vending machine to replenish his cigarette stock. He hesitated at first, then when he grew overly conscious of Hirutani's gaze, he settled for a brand he hadn't smoked before.

"These taste like shit," Hirutani mocked.

"They're more expensive. They're gonna taste better."

"You don't smoke for the taste. You smoke cause you have to. Can I get one?"

Unless he was a heavy smoker, Hirutani probably still had some cigarettes on him. But Jonouchi began unwrapping the pack anyway.

"Not here, idiot."

Smoking could only draw unwanted attention on the two middle school kids with bleached hair. So Jonouchi wisely pocketed his new possession. He followed Hirutani into a convenience store. The store clerk gave them looks.

"You hungry?" Hirutani asked, scanning the store, eyeing the crowd closely.

Jonouchi shrugged. "Not especially."

Hirutani gave him a look. Jonouchi pretended to be interested in the magazines on display. he recognized his father's usual pick, hidden from plain sight on the upper shelf. Hirutani walked to the refrigerated bento section. Jonouchi gave nervous glances at the cashier. Even between clients, they were keeping an eye on Jonouchi. Not that he was stupid enough to shoplift. He didn't see the appeal, anyway. Hirutani stationed himself behind an office lady at the end of the queue . He had two bentos and a bottle of water in his hands. Jonouchi joined him.

"I'm not buying anything," he insisted.

"No cause _I'm_ buying," Hirutani said.

"I'm not even hungry."

"You kinda suck at lying, you know that? Just pay me back later."

Jonouchi looked at his shoes. He couldn't say no to the meal but he hated owing people... His family sucked at owing people in general.

Hirutani barely tried to hide the stash of bills in his wallet when he got to the till.

They said nothing until they were out the convenience store. Hirutani carried the purchases until they boarded the train.

"Chicken or umeboshi?"

Jonouchi had never been fond of the sour thing. He grabbed the chicken. "Thanks. I'll pay you back when I can," he added.

"Nah, you don't need to pay me. Just give me a cig and we're good."

"Sure."

They didn't speak for the rest of the train ride. They got off at Gojo Station and walked to their (new) usual spot.

Hirutani produced a pair of disposable chopsticks from the plastic bag and handed them to Jonouchi, who reached for his vest pocket.

"Not now. I don't smoke when I eat."

Jonouchi nodded and opened his bento. He heard the characteristic 'clack' of wooden chopsticks being separated.

"Oh shit!"

Jonouchi looked at Hirutani's chopsticks. They had split the worst possible way, uneven and everything but symmetrical. Jonouchi's ended up the same. Perfectly split chopsticks meant luck; both boys laughed at their bad omen, at their superstition.

That was one shitty way of starting off a friendship.

"To our shitty luck," Hirutani said.

"To our shitty luck," Jonouchi echoed, his eyes cast on Hirutani's marred cheekbone.

They ate in silence, and then Hirutani was ready for his cigarette.

"Wanna try something?"

By now Jonouchi was pretty sure the little white pill would get him in legal trouble. "No, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Jonouchi reaffirmed, hardening his features.

"Okay, okay, no pressure. You're not ready yet."

Jonouchi offered no reaction. Hirutani looked away. He fiddled with his payment cigarette, twirling it between his fingers.

"I know one thing we can try, though."

Jonouchi gave him a suspicious look.

"With this," Hirutani amended, showing the cigarette. "I bet you're not game," he added.

"I'm not a chicken," Jonouchi said too quickly.

Hirutani chuckled. "Okay, Mister chicken. Watch me go. You don't mind sharing?"

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Hirutani laughed, and Jonouchi smiled inwardly. Hirutani lit up his cig, got it started with a few deep, needy drafts, then (at Jonouchi's dismay), inverted it and pointed the burning tip to his parted lips, slowly shoving it inside his mouth.

"I'm not doing that!"

Hirutani carefully withdrew the stick from his mouth. "No, _I_ do that part. You just have to smoke."

Jonouchi's brain couldn't even process how that trick was supposed to work. "I don't know."

"Chicken?"

Jonouchi frowned. Hirutani smirked. "Alright, let's do it. You sure you want to?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jonouchi replied, still not understanding what he was supposed to do. He was certain to look like an idiot if he asked, however.

The burning embers were engulfed in Hirutani's mouth again. Only the yellow tip showed, and a good centimeter of the white paper.

Jonouchi very suddenly understood that he had to smoke the thing straight from Hirutani's lips, and having one's mouth only millimeters away from another guy's mouth was potentially gay.

Hirutani 'hmhm'ed for Jonouchi to 'hurry the fuck up'.

Without thinking Jonouchi leaned in and sucked on the stick. His eyes widening when he realized it _was_ working (kind of), and that their noses were almost touching - he was one centimeter away from another guy's face. He breathed out through his nose, in Hirutani's face, which caused him to cough and moan in pain. The cigarette fell between them. Jonouchi nearly jumped away, wiping his mouth by reflex with the back of his hand.

"What? You think I'm a fag?"

"N-no, no."

Hirutani reached for the water bottle. After a much needed swig he smirked. "That make you horny?"

"No! No. I'm not a fucking fag."

"Good. Cause I'm not."

"Good."

Hirutani drank more of the water. Then handed the bottle to Jonouchi. "Want some?"

"No."

"Suit yourself."

Jonouchi didn't want to conversation to revolve around fags again. He looked at the old stains on Hirutani's uniform. "Where d'you get that much money?"

"That's none of your business."

"Okay."

Jonouchi picked at the odd single rice grains sticking to his plastic bento box. Hirutani scraped the dirt off the sole of his sneakers.

"I know some ways to make good money," Hirutani eventually said.

"Hm."

"I can show you if you want."

"Sure."

"You sure you want to know?"

"Meh, I don't care." Jonouchi leaned back and lied down, resting his head on his forearms. "I don't wanna get in trouble."

"It's no trouble if you don't get yourself into trouble."

Jonouchi glared at Hirutani. He was born into trouble. His own mother thought he was trouble. His dad was addicted to trouble.

"I don't know, maybe you're right." Hirutani kept hugging his knees.

"About what?"

"Maybe you can't handle it."

"I can handle a lot of fucking things, for your information."

"Really."

"Yeah. So don't act like you know me."

"Hmph." Hirutani stood up and swung his bag over his shoulder. "I'll believe it when I see it."

And he left.

.

Jonouchi made it a habit of smoking on the rooftop at recess. He made it a habit to get off at Gojo Station after school.

Apparently Hirutani hadn't also made it a habit to hang out at the spots they usually met.

Jonouchi began coming home after school.

.

He saw Hirutani on the train one morning. He was in the other wagon, sandwiched between a salary man and an office lady. His height made his hairdo stand out from the rest of the crowd. Jonouchi nodded at him in greeting. Hirutani looked away.

_Maybe he didn't recognize me_.

He almost caught up with him on the platform, after having exited their respective wagons. Hirutani was walking fast, like he was in a hurry.

"Hey."

The teenage was in danger of being swallowed by the crowd of the day's first rush hour. Jonouchi elbowed a few people to catch up. "Hey," he called out, louder this time.

Hirutani spared a glance. Jonouchi could only see the side of his face.

"Hey man, I haven't seen you in a while."

"I was busy." He cursed when the gate machine was slower than usual to read his train ticket.

Jonouchi hopped over the gate as usual. "Are you busy tonight?" He was cut by a salaryman. The distance between the boys increased. Hirutani wouldn't slow down. Jonouchi jogged to him, slaloming his way through the human obstacles.

"Yo, what's wrong?" He grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

There was a bruise the size of a tennis ball all around his other eye. Jonouchi couldn't help but gape.

"Piss off." Hirutani shrugged the hand off and carried on, leaving Jonouchi behind to stand alone in the uninterrupted stream of passengers.

.

The row of plum trees, near the schoolyard gates, made a better spot for smoking than the rooftop. It was less windy, for one. Jonouchi scanned the crowd for anyone that wasn't a dweeb, a jock, a loser. He found Hirutani in no time.

Jonouchi lit himself another smoke, eyeing Hirutani and his group from a distance. No wonder he'd never noticed him; he hung with the upperclassmen. Jonouchi didn't hang with anyone in particular.

Feeling annoyed, he crushed an ant under the sole of his shoe.

Hirutani stood in retreat from his 'friends'. At attention. He bowed when one of the seniors walked away and pulled out a lighter the second another put a cigarette to his mouth. One of the upperclassmen hit Hirutani behind the head and Jonouchi snickered.

The trunk and the branches of the plum trees were sullied with marred with mold. Above him, the pale flower buds were bloated with larvae.

Jonouchi felt like doing something stupid.

He tossed his smoke away and started walking towards the group.

.

Green

.


End file.
